Page 24 of Everything She Wanted

He smiles, and the whole room lights up. “She is.”

“You seem close.” I think about my own relationship with my sister, which is strained at best. She’s always been the golden child, and I’m the screwed-up one.

“We are, especially after my dad left.”

His vulnerability surprises me, and I roll my chair closer.

“I’m sorry.” I glimpse a sadness I haven’t seen before in his eyes.

“It’s okay. It was a long time ago. I was only sixteen.”

I give him a reassuring smile, and he continues.

“It was tough for a while, but things are so much better now...now that I’m old enough to take care of my mom and Lucy.”

I know exactly what he means. In Toronto, I lived with my mom, even though most of my friends had long since moved out, so I could help pay the bills and the mortgage, making things easier on her. Preeti made me feel guilty for leaving her on her own for this job, and I almost didn’t move here, but Rachel convinced me that going for my dreams would help us both in the long run.

I swallow the lump in my throat as I see him in a new light, the man behind the fancy clothes and put-together appearance. I resist the urge to place my hand on his.

“I lost my dad at the same age.” I don’t know why I’m telling him. I usually never share the intimate details of my life with anyone.

He shifts closer.

“That must have been so unimaginably hard.” The kindness in his eyes dissolves some of the armour I wear into the office every day.

“It was.” I take a deep breath and will myself to tuck my emotions away, like I always do. “You learn to deal, but the grief doesn’t really go away.”

He gazes at me with compassion and understanding that unlock some of the parts of me I keep hidden away.

“It’s okay to still be sad.”

I nod as warmth radiates from the centre of my heart outwards. The calls and check-ins were rampant at first but dwindled down within a few months. Now, years later, I barely mention it, except to Rachel, Sunny—my childhood best friend—and sometimes Eshaan. Most people think I should be over it by now.

“Thank you.”

I turn to the screen, not trusting myself to continue this conversation without crying.

“I made some changes to the pitch deck that I’d like to show you. I mean, I know you’re the expert, but I’d love to run these by you.”

“Of course.”

I turn my screen to him, and just like that, our conversation is back on track.

“Instead of walking me through it, why don’t you pitch me like you would an investor?” he says.

My heart starts hammering and I freeze. I’m normally good at presenting, but even though we’ve only known each other for the equivalent of barely a few hours if I add them up, his opinion matters to me.

He senses my trepidation and gives me a reassuring smile. “Think of it as a trial run. It will give me a better idea of what we need to shift, if anything.”

His words help relax the knot in my chest. Pretend. It’s what I’ve done since coming here, and what I can do now. I put Fantasy Nisha to work.

I imagine putting on my facade. He’s just an investor, not this captivating creature sent to me by a cruel universe that loves toying with me. I stand, even though I don’t have to. You can do hard things. Rachel’s voice resonates in my head, and I wish I could shake off the guilt I feel at hurting her with my harsh words.

I launch into my pitch, using the slides as jumping-off points and filling in the blanks with details I know investors would be interested in.

Nick’s face betrays nothing, so I have no idea if what I’m saying is landing, but he nods and smiles encouragingly from time to time, so I keep talking.

When I’m finished, I sit down and try to remain composed, even though I’m dying to hear his thoughts. My need for approval laces every interaction, even this one.